


I drive fast, I am alone at midnight

by TrueWords



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueWords/pseuds/TrueWords
Summary: And you get it, it’s Riverdale. You feel the weight of that town on your shoulders every day, there is no room for air in here, no room for any mistake and worst of all, no room for a future.The one where Jughead and Veronica run away together.
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 19
Kudos: 94





	I drive fast, I am alone at midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Stuck at home, what are you going to do?  
> Write some Jeronica of course!  
> This fic has been stuck in my drafts for 10 months and I finally got around to finish it... so I'm sharing it with you.  
> Trying a different writing style with that one, which I kinda enjoyed a lot.
> 
> Anyway, I don't remember the Riverdale timeline pretty well, but this fic is probably happening during season 3? Mid-season 3? Let's leave it to that.

You _can’t_ picture Veronica Lodge crying.

You know she’s a human being, so she probably has the physical capacity to do so, and yet, it’s not something you can easily imagine. You _can’t_ picture the Lodge actually breaking, actually letting her emotions getting the best of her because it’s simply not the face she shows to the rest of the world. _Sure_ , you guys don’t talk and you’re not the best of friends, you mainly move in the same space, interacting with the same people, so no… you’re not her best friend, not even a friend, you just got used to her.

You got used to her presence in your life. Like everyone else in Riverdale, she has her own space in your mind and the picture wouldn’t be complete without Veronica Lodge in it. Without her malicious smile and her brown eyes wandering everywhere and scanning every situation to see what could benefit her and her friends the most. Without the heels that she’s always wearing, that make that _infuriating_ sound against the ground, without her impeccable and almost regal wardrobe.

It wouldn’t be Riverdale without Veronica Lodge.

But maybe that’s the problem, maybe you’re just fed up with everything, maybe Riverdale being _Riverdale_ is going to bring you down to your knees in the end. Heartbreak after heartbreak, it’s hard for you sometimes to think straight, it’s hard for you to get up and when you push the door of Pop’s _that_ night, you just want to forget. Just want to head downstairs to La Bonne Nuit, and drink your sorrow away.

Walking cliché? Probably, but it’s the first time in forever that you want to give in to your worst instincts. You want to drown the noise and fill that empty hole in the middle of your chest. Pop himself is still behind the counter despite the late hour.

“Can I go down?” You ask the question; you don’t bother stopping on your way down actually and you hear Pop mumble a simple: “It’s just Veronica closing up.” and you decide that it’s enough for now.

You climb down the steps, leaving the dinner for the speakeasy and if you were in the mood, you would have noticed how elegant and unique the place is, but it’s not one of those nights, you just want to sit down at the bar and get a drink or a million in your hand.

But you **stop**.

You stop right there, at the bottom of the stairs because your blue eyes just caught the most beautiful sight.

Veronica Lodge, her own glass in her hands, crying. She looks stunning and you suddenly wonder _how_ you didn’t notice it before. She’s wearing a long black dress, her signature color, and you take in the curve of her neck and the almost sinful way her long dark hair is brushing against her naked shoulders. It’s her face that catches your attention the most, she _is_ crying, tears are rolling down her cheeks, her smudged mascara and the purple lipstick still on her face are the most breath-taking sight. She sobs, loudly, her expression is one of pure agony, there are no words for it. She then empties her drink in one long sip, almost desperate for it and as she puts down the glass, she finally notices _you_.

“Jughead? What are you…? I… we’re closed, you _can’t_ be here…”

Suddenly, the spell breaks, you don’t even know why but you don’t want it to end. Veronica wipes away the tears, _too_ quickly, _too_ expertly, like she’s done it a thousand times in the past few nights and she straightens up, brushing her hair almost nervously.

“I… I came here for a drink.” You reveal, your mouth dry, you haven’t moved from your spot, your eyes are still following Veronica. Veronica who attempts to smile and fail, Veronica who hides behind the counter, showing you her naked back. She takes a deep breath and when she finally turns around, she has found another glass and a full bottle of something strong you assume. Her expression is the one you’re most familiar with: the raven-haired princess, so sure of herself, so confident. And you could believe the lie, but there are still some tears in her eyes and some mascara on her cheeks.

But you say none of that, you sit down, right in front of her, and you let her pour the alcohol, for herself and for you and when she pushes it in front of you, you take the drink in your hand because that’s what you came for. You can’t bring yourself to actually drink it, you watch Veronica swallow hers like it’s the first she had in a long time. You wait a full minute, still eyeing her up and down, still trying to figure out _why_ this is wrong and right at the same time. She shouldn’t be all alone, not like this, someone should be with her, to listen, to comfort, to reassure.

So, you clear your throat.

Before you can say anything, she interrupts you with a gesture of her hand.

“Jughead… I don’t want to talk about it, it’s nothing. _Really_.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me. I didn’t even know you could cry. Veronica Lodge doesn’t cry in my book.”

A smile breaks her face, like she wants to believe you and be this perfect immaculate version of herself.

“So, come on… let it out. I mean… it’s _me_ , who am I going to tell? Your secrets are safe with me.” You hear yourself tell, surprised by your own words.

Veronica is as well, enough to study your own face. Probably wondering if you’re serious or if you’re messing with her. You’re not that good at telling jokes and she probably knows it. There is a sigh from her part, she fills up her glass once more and it takes her half of said glass to finally break.

“It’s _everything_. It’s my dad, it’s my mother, it’s Archie, Betty, Reggie, _you_ in a way… _Me_. But mostly it’s this town. This town that took everything from me. This town broke my family apart and forced me to deal with issues I wasn’t prepared to deal with. I fell in love; I got my heart broken over and over again. And I just… it never gets better, I never seem to catch a break, all I’m gonna end up with is this dinner and this speakeasy that technically still belongs to my father. This wasn’t supposed to be my life, Jones… And I don’t know if I have it in me to fight back anymore. It… it might be silly but I just want to pack a bag, leave and never look back.”

You weren’t expecting _that_. That much. So many emotions. Or the raw truth. Or to find yourself in every single word of her sentences. So, you frown, you watch her finish that other drink and you ask yourself if you should blame the alcohol or the loneliness. But you see the truth, you look into Veronica’s eyes and you finally see what she’s been hiding all along: the hurt, her scars and other broken pieces that you just don’t show the world.

And you get it, it’s _Riverdale_. You feel the weight of that town on your shoulders every day, there is no room for air in here, no room for any mistake and worst of all, no room for a future.

“So…” You cross your arms over your chest. “ _When_ are we leaving?”

It’s the first time you say it out loud. And Veronica rolls her eyes at you, naturally and chuckles softly.

“Well, all my stuff is already here and already in a suitcase! So, we can leave now, drive North and see what happens.”

“… I could steal my dad’s pick-up truck. Shove my motorcycle at the back and your suitcase as well. We just need a bit of cash.”

“We have a cash register right here, there’s your cash.”

“We’ll just have to ditch our cell phones. Maybe in Sweetwater River?”

There is a pause right there, a pause because Veronica has gone from chuckling to staring right back at you. She reaches for you, right there, across the counter, one of her hands grabs your left shoulder. Like she wants to make sure that you are real, that you’re not an illusion, that you’re not just part of the night, and that you’re not going to disappear like any bad dream.

I’m here, you almost scream, I’m right _fucking_ here.

Instead, you stand up, shrugging.

“We can leave Riverdale and never come back.”

You see her considering the idea. You see her eyes widen by the second because you’re not joking. You’re dead serious, you’ve never been more serious in your entire life and you tell yourself that she’s even more beautiful the next minute, when she smiles brightly like you just told her the most amazing thing in the world. And keeping to her words, Veronica opens the cash register, emptying it without any remorse.

“Okay, Jones. Let’s leave Riverdale and _never_ come back.”

She sounds excited and your heart is beating fast. You watch, fascinated, as she also empties the vault and shoves more money into one of her designer bags. Then, she takes her suitcase, apparently hidden into one of the stockrooms, and leads the way out of the club and then out of the dinner.

Pop is the last one to catch a glimpse of the two of you. You tell him that you’re _just_ going for a ride. And in a way, you’re not lying, you are going for a ride, the longest of your life.

* * *

The first week is nothing but sugary snacks and cheap motels and too soft beds.

Not that you’re complaining. There is absolutely no plan, you are completely free and you are strangely okay with that. Gas is expensive and so is food, but Veronica is feeling generous apparently and you let her take care of that. At night, you fall asleep in the bed right next to hers and you watch her whisper _goodnight Jughead_ with her eyes closed before she goes where you can’t follow.

In the morning, there is a light breakfast and you both use the bathroom before heading out. You thought Veronica would have the most trouble adjusting to this road trip, after all, she is very high maintenance and as long as you have a roof over your head, you can pretty much survive anywhere. But no protest falls from her lips, she is _beaming_. She seems to be enjoying every second away from Riverdale and she’s not just filling a space in your life anymore, she most certainly _is_ here.

There is no map, the car turns right and sometimes left depending on your mood or Veronica’s instructions. She’s in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, wearing a white t-shirt and a long black skirt, the windows are opened so her hair is moving and following the wind… She looks so free, like she was made for this, that you want to argue that you guys should have done this sooner.

You don’t argue though, you talk about books, about music, about movies. The subject of Riverdale and your sudden departure doesn’t come up, it doesn’t need to come up, because you both know what you left behind and what you’re never facing again. Maybe you’re both cowards, but at least, you’re _together_.

So, you listen to Veronica sings the songs on the radio, you let her feed you some fries as you keep on driving and you watch her finally get rid of your respective cell phones at a gas station, three days after your departure. You both got a hundred missed calls, she’s got more messages and alerts than you do and you want to laugh when she smashes both with her heel, deadly and dangerous.

She pays for new cell phones, cheap and disposable, and Veronica seems delighted to show you that you are her only contact. The _last_ reminder of Riverdale.

Three weeks of driving and you’re in the middle of Maine when she claims that she’s hungry. You agree and you pull out at the next exit, you want to laugh when you end up in a dinner very similar to the one you left, Veronica does point the irony and she orders chocolate milkshakes for you both and you drink them in silence.

You know there is something she’s not telling you; you’ve learned how to decipher every single one of her expressions, she’s easier to read without makeup. She looks less like Veronica Lodge and more like _Veronica_. And this Veronica sometimes doesn’t bother to comb her hair, she’ll just wear lipstick, borrow one of your flannel shirts, just like today and effortlessly wear it with one of her skirts and look like the girl you could have fallen for when you were more innocent. _This_ Veronica is your friend.

“I think this is where we split up Jughead.” She points the window and you follow her hand, only to read a **HELP WANTED** sign. You’re not really surprised, this lasted longer than any of your estimations.

“Veronica Lodge? In Maine? That’s the beginning of a good story.”

“A good and a peaceful one, I hope. But yeah, I think I’m done with the road for a little while, I need to do something with my time, and this is a good place to start.”

“And then what?” You ask because you’re curious, you’ve always watched from afar how her mind worked, always two steps ahead of everyone else. You figured she had to learn how to keep everyone on their toes with a dad like hers.

“I have no idea…” Veronica laughs abruptly, just like they do in the movies and you wait for the end of that sentence. “But you know what? That’s _okay_. I don’t need to know. I can do whatever I want. I’m Veronica _fucking_ Lodge.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

You both raise your glass and finish your milkshakes in comfortable silence. You want to add something meaningful when you watch her gather her belongings from your car. Nothing comes to you; nothing comes until you see Veronica dividing the rest of her money to give you half of it.

“No way. _No_. I don’t deserve that. I’m okay really.”

“Will you just take the money and shut up, Jones?”

Her tone is so commanding, the look on her face so serious that you sigh and take the cash, you shove the bills into your pocket, unhappily.

“But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Call me okay?” Veronica’s voice becomes softer at her request. Her smile is a weak one, and she seems so small and frail in front of you that it takes you one more second to register the fact that she’s not wearing heels today. A first. “And I _mean_ it. It’s not goodbye Jones, for sure I will see you again, I’m actually looking forward to it, we both got a fresh start… let’s use that, _okay_?”

Veronica is right and you choose to focus on that. On what’s ahead as opposed to what you left behind and the empty space you left in some people’s lives. It’s too late for that, you couldn’t be anything in Riverdale, yes it hurts, yes you miss that life, your family, your friends, your first love… However, you were never happy, here, you just might.

You end up doing the only thing that really matters in the end, and the only thing you’ll both remember, you cross the space between the two of you, just to wrap your arms around her, and pull her into an embrace.

You finally hug Veronica Lodge like one of your friends.

* * *

**Two weeks later**

“Look who’s _finally_ calling… Jughead Jones! I wasn’t sure you would keep your promise.”

“I figured out you needed your space. I didn’t want to just _impose_.”

“You’re not imposing, I told you to call me for a reason.”

“That you did. So, how are you? Any news? You got the job?”

“Yep, not only did I get the job but I live with one of my colleagues. It was easy, no one asked me any questions, I get paid in cash and the same goes for my rent and the rest. There are literally no traces of me, it’s like Veronica Lodge doesn’t even exist.”

“Oh, she did exist. And she just disappeared one night. This would definitely make a good story.”

“You’re the writer so get to work.”

“I haven’t written anything in forever. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”

“Keep me updated. I want to know how I will go down in history. And you, how are you doing? Where are you right now?”

“You probably won’t believe it, but I’m actually in Florida. I figured why the hell not, I’ve been allergic to the sun all my life, maybe now is the time for a change.”

“Jughead Jones… sipping cocktails on the beach, getting a tan, that’s something I want to see.”

“More like working my ass off... I found a job at a souvenir shop in an aquarium. So yeah, I do stay indoors a lot. And no cocktails for me... I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh, I can picture it now... you and your snarky attitude, selling plush toys to tourists and having to smile. Do you have to wear a _uniform_?”

“You know I do and it’s hideous. It’s bright blue because of the sea and all of that.”

“Yeah well, mine is bright pink so quit complaining.”

“.... Send me a picture, I feel like this is deserving of a good laugh.”

“You send me a picture of yours first and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“... Fine Lodge, you got yourself a deal.”

**Six months later **

“... Did you _know_ that you can get a high school diploma online? “

“Well hello to you too Veronica... and no, I had no idea, how do you even know that?”

“I figured it would be a useful thing to know, and it’s not like I can go back to Riverdale High, so yeah... I looked it up and there are some acceptable degrees and for not that much.”

“ _Hmm_... you don’t say.”

“Sounds like you don’t care at all.”

“No... not really... I didn’t call you to talk about high school diplomas. I still don’t plan on getting mine. Like at all.”

“Oh yeah, you’re going to remain a weirdo and an outsider forever I get it, Jughead, I get it. All I’m saying is that you can get your diploma not that you should. I still plan on getting mine, and maybe why not, go to college.”

“College? Interesting. I can picture you on campus in the fall, with your book and your glasses on. You would be at the top of your class and doing your best to crush everyone, not even going into a study group, just you and your memory cards.”

“Okay, this is weird... _How_ do you know I use memory cards? Your description is like eerie accurate, am I that easy to read?”

“No, you’re not... I just know you that’s all. College, _hmm_? What do you want to study?”

“Well ... Old Veronica would have said law without any hesitation because she was sure of getting a position on the Lodge Industry's board. But now that this is out of the question... I have absolutely no idea. I won’t be attending an Ivy League school that’s for sure, probably a community college. And I was thinking maybe social studies or communication... and maybe a semester abroad in Europe.”

“Sounds like a good plan... I think I’m gonna keep traveling for a while.”

“Are you still in Florida? How are the fishes?”

“ _Nah_. I wouldn’t know. I left, went up North, I’m thinking maybe I could go to Canada, just to see another country. You know I’ve never left this country?”

“Are you for real? Not even for holidays?”

“Hmm... have you met my family? The Jones are not exactly big on family fun. Or road trips. Or having money.”

“That’s a shame. But you have nothing stopping you now, and you’re going to love Canada, where are you headed?”

“I bought a plane ticket for Montréal, I’m starting small.”

“Oh, you’re going to love it there...! Me and my _Abuelita_ went there when I was 14 for a week and it was amazing. Okay grab a pen and paper, I’ll tell you about everything you need to do once you there.”

“Still bossy hmm?”

“Shut up you love it.”

* * *

**Two years later**

**VERONICA LODGE.**

You hold the sign proudly, waiting with the sea of drivers at the airport. Except you look nothing like a driver yourself, no perfectly pressed suit, and no hat. Just you, your army boots, your washed-up Jeans, a Led Zeppelin shirt, and a leather jacket.

Something did change but your aversion for fashion didn’t. You probably got taller. And you stopped wearing that stupid beanie. You threw it away one day because it was a reminder of Riverdale too. Maybe it was after yet another dream about Betty, about your dad, telling you how disappointed they are of you. Maybe you threw the hat away in a fit of rage. No one knows about the nightmares. No one knows apart from Veronica.

After two years spent on the phone, calling each other regularly, it had felt natural for you to call the brunette in the middle of the night, while you were trying to recover from the depths of your dream. Trying to make out what was real or not. And you know one thing for certain, Veronica _is_ real, she will always pick up the phone and she will never judge you. You left together and you left for a reason and nothing can tarnish that. Those were Veronica's words, the same exact words she whispered into the darkness as you pressed the cell phone hard against your ear it almost hurt you. It did hurt you but her words were comforting enough, they were something to hold on to and forget the guilt and forget the faces you might never see again.

" _Jughead_!"

You spot her before you _actually_ see her... of course, you do, how could you miss Veronica? She's unforgettable, she's the most accomplished woman and person you know and in those two years, she managed to build the life she had always deserved. Being admitted to college, studying economics, planning a trip to Paris in the next few weeks, you had both agreed that after two years apart, you needed to see each other. Just because. Just because frankly you did miss her, you still feel like you've been in her stories the last two years but it's just not the same thing. Before you can say or do anything, show her the sign with her name, or notice how she got taller as well, her hair is longer it seems, she is running towards you and all the air seems to be leaving your lungs as she pulls you into a hug, arms thrown around your neck.

"It's so good to see you Jughead."

And you pull her close, holding her so tight against you, part of you wishing she could melt inside of you and always be there. You feel Veronica's fingers on the back of your neck, stroking the skin right there and you can't help but lean into the touch, your own arms circling her entire frame and not letting go. You have no idea how long you stay like this, minutes? Hours? You don't care. But when she pulls back, she has a bright smile on her face and you're pretty sure it's matching yours.

"Shall we go? My car is right there. Do you need help with your bags?"

Before Veronica can answer, you already have her suitcase and you lead the way. You take into account a second too late that your free hand is holding Veronica's. Fingers intertwined together. It's all good. It is all good indeed, you feel a certain sense of familiarity being back in a car with her, and you're sure she can sense it as well because you exchange a knowing smile as you start the engine. You want to tell her about the streets of Montréal, about your favorite part of the city, about your pretentious job as a barista, and how you're in the band now, learning how to play the bass. You say none of that, because it's Veronica, you already confessed all of that to her. So, you end up driving in a comfortable silence because nothing needs to be said.

"I feel like I've already been here." She declares, stepping into your flat. In a way she _has_ , you have been describing the place for months now. It's not much, it's something you can afford and most importantly, it's your place. _Yours_. Which is the most important thing for you. Veronica eyes everything and you let her do so, you should probably feel exposed but you don't. You are past that. She comments on your books, your choice of furniture but it's on the said couch that you finally settle to share a pizza moments later. She tells you about her classes, about all the things she plans to do during her holidays. And you talk about the novel you started writing because you're still you, you're still Jughead, Riverdale or not.

She is the first one to yawn and you agree to leave her your bedroom for the evening. She feels stupid for stealing your only place of sleep and you shrug, taking the couch. It's close to midnight, you both could use the sleep and you changed the sheets just for her. You say goodnight with a smile and you slum into the couch, ready to fall asleep yourself with a smile on your face. Because you're not missing anything right now, for the first time in probably forever... you can call yourself happy.

" _Jughead_?" A worried voice breaks the air of the evening and you sit up immediately, looking for Veronica. She's right there, outside your bedroom, wearing nothing more but a large white buttoned shirt, her dark hair a small mess.

"Yeah? You okay?" You mumble, one hand on your face, trying to chase the sleep away.

"Yeah it's just... your bed is too soft and it's weird and... do you mind... coming in? There is enough room for both of us."

And a simple request shouldn't make your heart beat this fast, but it does, one look at Veronica and you have to comply. You follow her, finding your side of the bed. Only to have the brunette pressing herself against your chest, eyes closed. You froze for a second, it's _her_ , it's still Veronica, and you finally wrap both arms around her waist, holding her just right there. You feel her tense at first but it's a matter of seconds before she relaxes against you. Because it's midnight and you're not going anywhere.

You are not going anywhere and she is not going anywhere.

She is Veronica and you’re Jughead and moments later, maybe minutes, maybe seconds, you find yourself listening to her steady breathing. The sound is filling the room and it’s a brand-new sort of music, the kind of song you could listen to over and over again. Why? Because the sound is comforting, because you haven’t had anyone in your bed, with you _in_ and _out_ of those sheets for a while now. Not that you haven’t had your fair share of lovers and one-night stands since you left Riverdale or since you’ve settled down here. A few girls. One boy one night just because you were bored and you wanted to try and taste something different.

But it was always a rush. Always hard and fast, always to fulfill a need. Just something your body craved. Like food or water. Never something you put your heart into. Never someone you actually wanted.

_This_ , having Veronica in your arms, it is different and yet strangely familiar. Her face is nested in your neck, hair brushing against the naked skin of your chin. Chest pressed against yours, heart beating against yours, her legs tangled with yours. You’re just a giant mess of limbs. And it doesn’t feel out of place.

“Hey, Jughead?”

Veronica’s voice is a whisper that breaks the darkness. It’s not pitch black in your room, quite the opposite in fact. The blinds are not properly shut, there are street lights nearby, people still leading full lives, and every time a car passes by, it casts its shadow along the walls, like a demon spreading its long fingers across the room. You’re aware of all of that, you focus on Veronica and Veronica only. One of your hands is covering hers, the other one on her lower back, stroking absently like you’re still trying to reassure her. Like the night you both fled Riverdale. Trying to prove that it’s all okay, that you’re still right _here_.

“ _Hmm_?” You finally answer, apparently too tired for real words.

“This feels nice.”

“Yep. Agreed. I make the most amazing pillow.”

She chuckles softly and you can feel her entire frame moving at the sound and you’re so glad that you and you alone caused that reaction.

“You know what I mean you, idiot. It’s nice to see you again. To be here. And to actually talk to you and not just over the phone.”

And if Veronica’s tone was playful at the beginning of her sentence, by the end there is something else in her voice. Something soft and tender and it has your heart beating a little bit faster the next moment. But instead of replying, instead of staring at the ceiling like you do most nights before you fall asleep, you just nod and close your eyes. Actually, welcoming the darkness. Your mind not silent but screaming as you try to come up with a decent thing to stay. People think, have been thinking for years actually, that you’re good with words. That everything flows naturally and it just comes to you. It’s far from the truth actually, the words elude you most of the time, they don’t come as easily as they should. That’s why writing is good for you, you can take your time, you can focus and find the perfect sentence or the right adjective, to convey the right tone and the right emotion.

Because _nice_ just doesn’t cut it for you.

There should be a better way to describe this. You want to tell her that you’re glad that you’re the one that found her that night at Pop’s crying and alone. That you’ve been replaying that scene a hundred times in your head, just to remember every single detail. From her exposed shoulders to the curve of her neck to the tears rolling down her cheeks. You want to tell her that in 19 years of existence, you’ve never been so sure apart from that one moment. That one moment you listened to her confession. The moment the witching hour stroke and you both decided that it was enough.

You want to confess that sometimes, just _sometimes_ , when you’re alone in your car, you turn up the radio and listen to the voices of female singers and pretend that it’s _her_ singing. That she’s singing all of those pop songs just for you, just to see you get annoyed and roll your eyes because the lyrics are dumb and you both know it. You want to admit that when anything remotely interesting happens to you, you make a point of remembering it, so you can tell her about it over the phone, in excruciating details no less. And it’s only when you depict the moment to the brunette, only when she comments on every single one of them, only then, it all makes sense.

There are no words for all of that, however, and you remain quiet, wishing you knew more words. Or had the courage to say all of that. So, you decide to open your eyes to offer her a smile and suggest that you catch some sleep.

Except that you hadn’t noticed her moving at all, and when you open your eyes, it’s only to meet Veronica’s. Who’s sitting on the bed now, still in your embrace, and looking down at you. And it feels as if no one has ever looked at you before. You tend to avoid eye contact, always have, it’s easier to pretend that people are not here that way, easier to retreat to the shadow and just be your damn self if you can’t see how people perceive you. And it’s always in the eyes, isn’t it? _It is_.

But underneath Veronica’s gaze, you don’t flinch and you don’t look away. You know that despite the semi-darkness, she can see you. She has never been the one for false assumptions or buying to your whole wounded loner act. She can see deeper than that. There is a silence there, your mouth is so dry all of a sudden, you should probably get up and have a drink or two or a million. Except you don’t move, still waiting for Veronica to do the next move and decide if what she sees is enough or not. Part of you, sadly the weakest, wishes it is.

You don’t know what she finds, however, but when she moves next, you freeze even more. She leans in, blocking your view of the world with her face so close to yours, her hair on either side of your own face, her steady breathing so close to your mouth. And she _kisses_ you. She kisses you and you can’t move for a few seconds because it’s all too surreal and yet everything you knew you needed.

It takes you a second. Then two. And it’s enough for her to retreat, something sad in your eyes.

“God sorry, I thought… _Sorry_ , Jughead. I thought that’s what you wanted…” She apologizes quickly, trying to separate her body from yours, trying to break your embrace. And your mind screams _no_ at that, your heart bolt in your chest and you’re suddenly very aware of every single nerve in your body and that you’re alive. And that you need this, you need her, you need Veronica.

“No… I mean yes… _Yes_ , this is what I want, trust me, this is what I want.”

Your voice is low and filled with your own desire and to prove it, to prove that you mean what you say, you always do, you don’t let her go to far. You cup her face with both of your hands and you pull her back on top of you and you kiss her. You kiss her and you mean it.

And it all clicks when Veronica moves next, when her mouth open when she shivers and your tongues finally meet, right there and she kisses you back. And it’s perfect and you feel like you’re melting into the kiss, into her taste because it’s all you ever wanted, all you ever needed. You don’t slow down, you can’t slow down now, she has started a fire neither of you can control, and you kiss hungrily. All wet and hard at the same time, the kind of kisses you give when you’re not ready to let go and when you know you’re never letting go.

That’s what it is. You whimper when she pulls away, only to settle herself even better against your frame. She is straddling you, suddenly taller than you and the look in her eyes is one of pure envy. Veronica looks like she’s about to devour you whole and you would let her. Happily. You’re ready the next moment when your mouths meet, it’s fast and a bit sloppy at times, your teeth craze against each other probably too many times, but you don’t care, you take everything she wants to give, everything she has to offer. Her hands are inside your hair, pulling and nails tracing the line of your skull and driving you crazy. The sensation makes you shiver and growl against her lips, in her mouth even, the sound so dirty, even for you.

Your own hands are busy as well, moving alongside Veronica’s back, discovering in their own way. You have one arm wrapped against her waist and you keep her close, keep pushing her body into yours, as your other hand settles for her lower back, moving as well. Because you want to end where she begins and in fact, you don’t want to be apart for too long. You realize in every single one of your hungry kisses, with every single lap of her tongue, how you’ve missed her and how badly you've always wanted her right here. So, you move her, move her entire body against yours with ease, you are much taller than her and it helps in this instance. And the result is her grinding slowly against you, the fabric of her blouse and even underwear meeting your own clothes. You get aroused by the second and if you seem to be moving fast, it doesn’t feel like the other times, _this_ , you not only _need,_ but you _want_.

With that thought in mind, you switch position quickly. You on top of her. And for a moment, your eyes meet again, as another car passes by. It’s enough for you to take in everything of her, from the dark long hair to the way she is currently biting her lower lip, looking up at you. For a few seconds there, you ask yourself how you look like: unhinged? Out of control? You feel a bit like this, and yet, you find yourself between her legs.

“I don’t want to stop.” Admits Veronica, her own voice is a bit shaky, she’s still catching her breath, finally, she can breathe without your mouth latched to hers.

“Me neither.”

“ _Good_.”

That word is resolution and it’s a promise also. She motions for you to take off your shirt and you do so with shaky hands. It’s not your first time, far from it, but this is still new. And it’s half-naked that you watch as she gets rids of her own shirt, laying down on your bed like … like a _fucking goddess_ , you decide as you trace your own lips with your tongue, eager to see more of her.

And Veronica knows it, it probably explains the new smile on her face, sort of devious, sort of cunning and she makes you wait for it. Buttons after buttons, she carefully reveals a bit more skin, because she knows you’re not going to be able to stop yourself once she is on a display in front of you. And what a display she offers. One of your hands finds your hard on easily and you cup yourself though your pants, to steady your own breathing, and to show her all the effects she has on you.

She is breath-taking, even more beautiful now than the infamous night you finally learned who she was and what she was made of. And right now, Veronica is looking up at you, shirt finally tossed aside, laying down in nothing but black panties, all skin and curves in full sight. Her breasts, full and round catch your attention first, they move as she takes each breath and that’s where you mouth goes first as you finally move, leaning into her.

“God, _Jughead_ …”

She moans your name and your name only as you lip wrap themselves around her right nipple and that you suck shamelessly, like it’s going to actually feed you. It feeds your soul that’s for sure and after sucking it your tongue goes over it again, and again. Fascinated by the taste, because yes, even there, she still tastes good, something sweet like _honey_ , you're certain, you’re not delirious with need, not you… And you give her other nipple the same kind of attention, as every single one of her soft moans and begs is an encouragement. It’s exactly what you wanted to hear all those nights ago, when you couldn’t fall asleep. Every single sound goes straight south, making you impossibly hard but you focus, focus on her skin, focus on her hands inside your hair, focus on Veronica, and Veronica alone.

She’s the only thing in the darkness and your mouth moves a little bit further down the next moment. You kiss the space between her two breasts, and then lower, and then finally, when you find yourself in her navel, your hands find the elastic band of her panties and you push them down. You want to see it all, you want it now, you need her now. Another day, another time, you will take your time and cover every part of her skin with kisses, but not right now, now you need her too much. You still steal a few more kisses, on her naked hips, her pelvis, inside her thighs and she keeps moaning your name like it’s the only thing that makes sense. So _yeah_ , when your face is between her legs, you wish you had more light to see _all_ of her, but what you can make sense of is enough and it’s with two fingers that you brush her soft and wet insides, testing and discovering her for the first time ever.

“ _Fuuuuck_ …. Please don’t go slow, _please, please_ , not now, I need you.” Veronica’s instructions are more than clear and they send a bolt of pure electricity and want right down your spine and you feel like you’re taking one step closer to your own release. It doesn’t help that she mumbles the words fast, one hand in your hair, still pulling to the point of it hurting. But it’s all good, it’s the kind of pain you want, and you understand what she needs. So instead of gently brushing and stroking, your two fingers go inside of her in one long move and you both moan at that.

“Fuck... _Veronica_.”

“ _More_ , please.”

Your voices echo each other and echo into the night and instead of pulling out and give her what she wants, what she is begging for, you spare a few seconds, taking your fingers in and out of her a few times at a slow and yet steady pace. Because she feels incredible, all tight and wet around your fingers, numbing them in a way with her insides. And each time your fingers go in, there is a sound that falls from her lips, a moan, a whimper, half of a scream. And she follows your every move, with her hips but also with her entire body, trying to get a little bit more than what you’re giving right now, hands turned into fists as she grips and pulls the sheets tight, one side of her face buried deep into the pillow as she moans. It’s more than you can take, you’re only human and when your fingers finally leave Veronica, it’s only because you're pushing your pants and underwear down in one swift move.

You free your hard-on just like that and you’re both completely naked and excited and there is no doubt about that. Veronica is still looking at you and she shifts next, you nod no.

“Please don’t move, don’t move, you’re perfect. Just like _that_.”

Like _that_ , completely naked on your bed, legs spread just for you, because she wants you and because she needs you. You look for some sort of reassurance on her face and she nods back, whispers _okay_ , and watches as your right hand is now around yourself, moving up and down slowly, from the base to the tip. You’re showing her what she did this and it’s all hers. You don’t repeat the motion, you couldn’t handle it and you would probably end up coming in your own palm and that’s not the goal of all of this.

You grab her hips next, you pull her closer against you and she lets you, sliding accordingly against the mattress with a soft sound. She doesn’t interrupt you either, she just hisses a little bit when the tip of _you_ is near her entrance and you feel it too, the need. You lean to kiss her and slowly, very slowly, you push your hips further and get inside of her. And you don’t breathe and you don’t think until you’re fully inside of Veronica, until you’re both connected and you fill her up in every single sense of the word. _“God… yes.”_ It’s you, it’s your own voice this time and you barely recognize it, it’s the voice of a mad man, of someone who finally got what he wanted and that found his place into this damn world. Right there, right inside Veronica, where it feels so hot and so tight and so _damn_ good.

She grabs your shoulders next and you’re glad she does because you move then. You pull out and slam right back into her, with so much ease, that you have to repeat the gesture one more time. And another. And _another_. And each time you move harder and each time you sink deep inside of her, you want to just let go. But just a few more seconds, you think, just a few more seconds of bliss, of this, of _you_ , of _her_ , of you _both_.

You kiss Veronica and it’s messy, because your hips are still moving and because she still moans, she finds herself as well and she keeps talking to you. Keep telling you how _good_ you feel inside of her, filling her up and just being inside of her. It’s so dirty and yet so true and you drink every single one of her pleas, every single one of her praise and you pick up the pace, without being aware of it. Because she’s encouraging you and telling you it’s all she needs from you right now. You kiss her again it’s okay if you miss her mouth, it’s okay because Veronica’s legs are wrapped around your waist, Veronica’s hands are on your back, scratching and pulling, Veronica’s voice is telling you _not_ to stop, to _never_ stop and to keep going and Veronica’s insides are welcoming you every single time you thrust into her, and you know you’re close. So, fucking _close_ to everything, to coming, to dying, to confessing your love for her right there and to promising you’re never letting go and that you’re going to do _this_ all night long.

Yes, exactly _this_ , with her, every day and every fucking night, and that she will never find herself crying and alone in the middle of the night. Never again, you think harshly, high on her scent, her hands all over you, her skin against yours, and you inside of her. And surely you come, your own release hits you by surprise but you don’t stop moving, pounding inside of her body through it, shaking and shivering right into her arms, face buried inside her neck, sucking the skin right there.

You buck a few more times into her before you feel yourself not being here anymore, the few past minutes being too good and too surreal for you to register everything. You pull out slowly, you both moan at that and you’re not even ashamed as you collapse on top of Veronica, sliding down to find her chest and to lay your head right there, and as her arms press you against hers, you close your eyes.

“Veronica?” You hear yourself whispering.

“Yes, Jughead.”

“I… I’ll follow you _anywhere_.”

And you decide, as she strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head, that those words are enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the story.  
> Feedback is always appreciated ♥♥♥


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